


The Height at Five Nights

by TK_Hoshikuzu



Category: Original Work
Genre: BL, Camping, Drama & Romance, Forest Sex, Halloween, M/M, Original Slash, Revised Version, Secrets, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-08-14 01:46:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16483745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TK_Hoshikuzu/pseuds/TK_Hoshikuzu
Summary: Oscar doesn't understand why his junk food loving, trash TV binging boyfriend disappears into the woods every month, and his boyfriend's evasiveness makes him determined to get to the bottom of it all.[Revised version of short story of same name, originally published in Shousetsu Bang*Bang Issue 63.]





	1. Prologue

It had been a while since Oscar took the time to admire the beauty of autumn, a perfect vision of summer’s vigor softened by the looming chill. The crisp outlines of the clouds were a pretty contrast of dark and blue, and it seemed like they were driving into a Technicolor movie. 

He couldn’t muster the courage to mention his mundane observation to Damien, who was growing tenser throughout their drive to the campgrounds. This was a marked change from the morning, when Damien had been all smiles and spirit, clearly enthusiastic about their first romantic getaway. Oscar had been relieved to know that he wasn’t just imposing on Damien’s monthly camping trips, and delighted that Damien was finally making an effort to include him. 

Oscar decided he had spoken too soon, as Damien’s responses to Oscar’s questions became clipped and nervous. Damien may have been trying to cheer himself up more so than Oscar, but it was challenging for Oscar to read him. Making one more attempt to figure out Damien’s thoughts, Oscar reached over and squeezed his knee. 

Echoing Damien’s earlier optimism, he said, "I'm really happy we’re doing this together. It’s gonna be great."

"Well, you wouldn't take no for an answer," Damien replied, laughing shortly in a pitch higher than normal. 

The jab pricked Oscar’s feelings like a needle, since it was unexpected, but Damien was stating a fact. He was referring to last month’s camping trip, when Oscar had tried to stow away in the back seat among the usual assortment of gear and supplies. He was a thin man and thought he could huddle in the footwells. Oscar admittedly hadn’t thought through the consequences of his actions, but he was sure that Damien would let him tag along. He was surprised when Damien booted Oscar from his car, albeit with a peck and an apologetic smile.

"Babe, let’s talk about this later," he had said from the driver’s seat, a gentle way of trying to avoid the issue yet again. 

Oscar had felt a smear of guilt, but he felt justified and refused to drop it.  _ Maybe _ it was disrespectful on his part, but Damien had been hiding his trips from him on purpose. Even after Oscar discovered his monthly getaways, Damien continued to avoid the subject, his excuses doe-eyed and charming. It was cute for a very short time. Oscar was vehemently allergic to lies, especially from boyfriends, so Oscar was determined to go to the next one. 

Still, Oscar felt guilty because Damien was everything he could want in a lover. He shot a glance at Damien, who was staring at the road straight ahead. Damien’s cropped, untidy hair and shabby flannel shirt belied his fine, angular features. Oscar felt lucky to have such an attractive and otherwise warm-hearted boyfriend - the best one yet. Until Oscar began to pry, their relationship had been great, so this was by far their most uncomfortable moment.

"Do you need a break?" Damien’s voice cut through his thoughts. 

"No way," Oscar half-playfully quipped. "You'll drive off without me."

"I wouldn't," he said with a sigh. "I promised I'd take you." Damien stared straight ahead, grips tightening on the steering wheel. 

Oscar propped his elbow on the car windowsill and looked out so that Damien wouldn’t see his irritation. It was difficult for him to walk the line between curious and intrusive. Oscar didn’t want to turn Damien off - this habit had gotten him in trouble with his exes multiple times - but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being taken for a ride (figuratively). The bold view of the mountain ridge cutting the horizon seemed to set the stage for something dramatic, but Oscar hoped that it was all a silly misunderstanding with a peaceful resolution. 


	2. First

"You know where we're going, right?" Oscar asked, sitting and leaning against a tree. After an hour and a half of hiking uneven terrain, Oscar figured they had to have walked at least two miles.

Damien offered him a bottle of water. "I’m looking for a spot with a stream nearby. I’ve been following the trails, but I didn’t see anything good enough."

What trails? Oscar thought to himself, amazed by Damien’s perception. Oscar was preoccupied with observing Damien and figuring out why he was so evasive about his camping trips. Maybe Damien was embarrassed by his quirky hobby and had a kind of ‘one-with-nature’ ritual that Oscar was interrupting.

Pausing his thoughts, Oscar took a large swallow of water and let out a satisfied sigh. The bags on his back were draining his energy fast, but Oscar was reluctant to speak up about his discomfort. He was worried that Damien would use that as an excuse to take him home. Oscar had mixed feelings about Damien’s tendency to treat him so gently, even though Oscar insisted that he only _looked_ fragile.

Instead, he asked another nagging question, “You don’t know where we’re going? Haven’t you been here before?”

Damien shrugged, unconcerned. “I like to change things up. Plus, I don’t really like being limited to pre-made campgrounds.”

“So...no showers, no electricity, no microwaves, no indoor plumbing,” Oscar listed off with a perplexed look. It was hard to believe that Damien would willingly abandon every modern convenience, especially as someone who loved all instant, processed food stuff.

“If I don’t find a spot in half an hour, I’ll let you rest while I scout the area myself,” Damien offered, still wearing his bag without breaking a sweat. Oscar goggled at him and wondered how he could have underestimated his boyfriend’s strength.

“Okay,” Oscar said with relief, though he hefted his burdens slowly and tried not to wince, his mouth clamped shut.

They continued to weave through the vegetation and climb moss-covered rocks while Oscar tried to make out the trails that Damien allegedly was following. At last, Damien perked up and turned to smile at Oscar, who noticed that his expression was marred with anxiety.

"We’ve found a good one," he announced. Oscar joined his side and saw a small clearing ahead, made perfect with nearby stream.

Damien walked to the center of the clearing, which was surrounded by a smattering of trees and long-stemmed wildflowers that thickened as Oscar looked further into the forest. With a thud Damien set down his enormous pack. "Let's get started. It gets dark fast."

Grateful to dump his bags, Oscar took a glorious moment to stretch and take in the sights. He recognized the quiet sound of running water and focused on how the sun glistened on the surface. He looked up at the sky and admired its crisp coloring, now turning a warm orange that hinted at sunset. The scenery was reminiscent of the woodland fairy tales a younger Oscar read when he was bedridden for months. Because of that, Oscar had limited exposure to nature, but Damien didn’t need to know.

Meanwhile, Damien wasted no time in laying out parts of the tent. As Oscar watched him spread out the tarp and connect the tent poles, Oscar felt out of place because it was as though Damien had forgotten Oscar was there. Tired of waiting for Damien to give him direction, he knelt to lend a hand.

Damien seemed like he was caught off-guard, but with a quick smile he said, “Thanks.”

“It’s what boyfriends are for,” Oscar replied with a huff that was more irritated than endearing.

They worked in awkward silence, which sucked away the scraps of romance still left from the morning. When they took a moment to survey their finished campsite, Oscar leaned timidly into Damien’s side. The fact that Damien didn’t move away gave Oscar the confidence to face him and slide his arms under Damien’s jacket and around his waist. With a small, cloying smile Oscar leaned in, but was dismayed to find that Damien’s eyes looked restless, shifting to the side and avoiding his gaze.

Oscar then said, voice colored with bitterness, “You really _don’t_ want me here.”

Damien pulled him into a tight hug and buried his face into Oscar’s neck. When the heat between their bodies began to make Oscar sweat, Damien said, "I'm glad you're here. It’s new for me too.”

He withdrew from the hug to continue setting up camp and Oscar stood by with a slight shiver, brimming with questions he was too afraid to ask. He actually managed to annoy Damien the last time he grilled him about these mystery camping trips. But Oscar hated being kept in the dark and how reluctant Damien was to talk. He abruptly checked himself as his insecurity nearly peaked, and Oscar had to remind himself to be patient.

He was broken from his thoughts by gentle pinches on his cheeks. “Are you listening?” Damien asked. “Bears aren’t a joke, so we have to make sure that the cooler is up when we’re not using it.” He was pointing at the icebox that had been hoisted into a tree by an impressive system of ropes and knots.

"Wow, I had _no_ idea you were so capable," Oscar said, surveying Damien’s handiwork. The tent was up, a neat fire pit was alive and glowing, and two chairs were arranged around it. It wasn’t exactly a fairy tale, but still cozy and warm, just the two of them together.

"You’ve seen the notebook," Damien said, giving Oscar a playful nudge in his side.

Oscar grinned at the unexpected show of affection. "Yeah, the one surrounded by Hot Pocket wrappers and energy drink cans. What show did you have on when you were making that thing?" Oscar asked with a laugh, throwing his arms around him. “Seriously, I thought you were just inspired by some nature channel.”

Damien reached out to ruffle Oscar’s hair and Oscar nearly melted from the warm touch of his hand, smelling like fresh ash. “Now you know it’s all real. You hungry?”

He leaned into the weight of Damien’s hand, rubbing his cheek against his palm. "Starving. I’ll eat anything. What’d you bring? Slim Jims? Pepperoni bites?”

“Nope.” Damien squirmed out of Oscar’s hug and reached into his bag to take out two smushed ham and cheese sandwiches, handing one to Oscar.

“Oh my God,” Oscar said, covering his mouth in a mock look of surprise. “No Pop Tarts or Twinkies?”

Damien gave him a crooked smile as he sat in one of the folded chairs and stretched out his long legs. Following suit and plopping himself into the other chair, Oscar remarked, “So you are a _real_ outdoorsman.” Looking at the sandwich in his hands, he avoided Damien’s gaze as he added, “But why every month? You don’t talk about it, so it’s hard to believe you love nature that much.”

“I don’t think anyone wants to hear about it,” Damian replied. “Talking about camping is boring, but for me it’s...therapeutic,” Damien continued slowly, fishing for the right words. “Like re-organizing my mind from the chaos of...not nature."

Oscar let himself glance at Damien, a little hurt that Damien considered Oscar a part of that ‘chaos’, a part of what he wanted to get away from. Oscar also felt embarrassed that Damien might unhappy and he had no clue.

"What’s so stressful back home? Is it the city? Your job? Or--" Oscar’s voice snagged on the idea that their relationship might be a burden. If so, then Oscar was definitely intruding.

Damien sighed deeply, as if he knew Oscar couldn’t resist asking questions. "I love my life back home, but it’s good to have peace once in a while." He stared at his sandwich with furrowed brows. “I’m not from the city, you know.”

“But there must be something _wrong_ for you to want to get away,” Oscar pressed. He wasn’t going to admit it, but he certainly acted like Damien was lying. “Every few months, sure _maybe_ , but every month?” He smiled nervously as he trailed off, “I mean, isn’t it weird...?”

Turning to him, Damien cocked his head and gave Oscar a cool, but not unkind look. It made Oscar avert his gaze to the ground, his chest feeling tight, so guilty. The silence was horrible, thick with the unspoken accusation. Oh God, he had completely transformed into the paranoid boyfriend, Oscar fretted.

To his relief, Damien reached over and took Oscar’s hand, clothed in a black leather glove. “Oscar,” he began in a soft, low voice. “I brought you here to understand a little better.” It looked like he tried to hide the anxious look from earlier, but it came out anyway in an uneasy smile.

"Let me show you how to purify that water," he said, suddenly changing the subject. He jerked his head toward the stream.

Before Oscar could ponder his words, Damien pulled out and opened a tin full of nondescript pills and capsules.

"We need all of those?" Oscar asked incredulously. He was boggled by the variety of sizes and shapes in the tin, but Damien fished out two pills and snapped it shut before he could get a good look.

"No, but I like to keep all my meds in one place."

Oscar noticed the tin was old, the red worn down to a faded pink. "Meds for what? And how do you know what's what?"

"I've been doing this for a while," Damien replied. “You have to be prepared for anything.”

It wasn’t until Oscar witnessed Damien’s sharp wilderness skills that he began to realize how unprepared he himself was. He hadn’t expected their trip to be so primitive. That was probably why Damien looked so uneasy. Of course he wouldn’t be comfortable bringing his inexperienced, paranoid, city boyfriend of five months to the backwoods.

Dismayed that he overlooked this, Oscar vowed not to complain and prove that it wasn’t a mistake for Damien to bring him along. Damien had been accommodating, so Oscar wanted to impress Damien with his toughness -- even when faced with the warm, muddy taste of purified stream water.

“I think I prefer Mountain Dew,” Oscar said with a wrinkled nose. “Are you sure this isn’t going to kill me?”

“Nothing’s going to kill you here,” Damien replied. “I promise.”

**One Month Ago**

 

_It was a rare occasion when they visited Damien’s apartment. Due to a perfect storm of bad luck, (lunch reservations fell through, the movie was starting too late, it was raining, payday was tomorrow), Oscar proposed an impromptu lunch at Damien’s place for a spell. Looping an arm in the crook of Damien’s elbow, Oscar steered them to the burger joint in Damien’s neighborhood before Damien could suggest anything else._

_They had only been seeing each other for about five months, but since they spent so much time together, Oscar already flirted with the idea of living together too. The move would be easy, he thought to himself, as he scanned Damien’s bare apartment. It wasn’t a surprise to Oscar that Damien much preferred to spend time outside in the city or Oscar’s apartment, which was cozy and had cable. If Damien were to leave the next day, there would be little sign that anyone had lived there before. Oscar chalked it up to his financial situation, which Oscar observed as meager, though he wouldn’t dare bring it up._

_Shedding his wet leather jacket and gloves, Oscar tossed them over the only chair, next to the small nightstand of a table, next to the mattress pushed against the wall._

_“Hope you don’t mind we eat on your bed,” Oscar said, looking around for something to place on top of the covers._

_“We don’t need--” Damien began as Oscar pulled at a corner that was poking from under the mattress. A whole mess of items spilled out and it looked like more was wedged underneath. Most of it was an assortment of wrappers and plastic, but Oscar managed to pull out a worn book, stained with brown rings._

_“I guess we can tear sheets from this,” he said presumptuously, wrinkling his nose at his discovery. He opened it to find that photographs of forests were neatly pasted on each page, a different date written at the top left corner. "What’s this, a scrapbook?" Flipped through it, he realized that the dates were current, the latest one being almost one month prior._

_Damien gently tugged the book away from him. “I don’t mind if we eat on the bed.”_

_“Yeah, obviously,” Oscar said with a grin. Showing Damien a fistful of garbage, he continued, “You do it all the time.”_

_Damien hunched his shoulders with a sheepish smile, but Oscar noticed him pushing the book off of the bed. They ate picnic style, leaning against the wall and staring at another empty wall._

_“So did you take those pictures?” Oscar asked._

_“Mmhmm,” Damien responded, having taken a large bite of his burger._

_Oscar deliberately reached over Damien’s lap for the book, watching for his reaction from the corner of his eye. Damien's attempt to look unfazed encouraged Oscar to open the book and flip through it with renewed interest. "It’s so organized. It’s labelled and divided into sections.”_

_Each date was more or less one month apart from the previous date. Something clicked in Oscar’s head and he asked, “Is this what you’re doing every month?”_

_Damien took another huge bite. “Mmhmm,” he said, not exactly meeting Oscar’s eyes._

_This put Oscar on guard. "But you said you go out of town for work every month,” he said, trying to keep his own tone casual._

_Damien glanced at him before sighing between chews. After swallowing, he answered, “I’m not wrong.”_

_Oscar tried to refrain from sounding too annoyed at Damien’s short, unhelpful answers as he went with a different approach. “So this is just one of the many side jobs you do, right? Maybe I can go with you next time. I haven’t taken vacation in a while,” he said, keeping his voice perky and positive. “I’ll stay out of your way.”_

_“I’m not sure you’d like it,” Damien said with a chuckle, which Oscar took as condescending._

_Oscar bristled and with a testy smile asked, “What’s wrong with getting to know my boyfriend more?”_

_Then Damien shrugged in a way that was reminiscent of the exes that had lied to him. The dismissive gesture made Oscar lose his temper, and for the first time, Oscar used a pissant, argumentative tone with Damien._

_“It’s not a matter of whether I like it or not. You never talk about these monthly trips, and these pictures aren’t exactly descriptive. I want to know--” Oscar stopped himself. He was close to implying that Damien was lying. His insides curled and twisted at the thought. Worse, the more he talked, the more insecure he looked._

_He grumbled into his burger, “I think anyone would want to know how a junk-food eating, trash TV-loving guy handles the woods. ”_

_“Unwillingly,” Damien said, then broke into a wide, toothy grin, amused by his own comment._

_“Then let’s go together next time,” Oscar pressed. “Maybe it will be more fun with me.”_

_Damien smiled and looked as if he were delighted by the suggestion, but said, “Maybe another time.”_

_“Another time soon?” Oscar asked, going for the cute angle by laying himself down on Damien’s lap and batting his lashes._

_“You wouldn’t like it,” Damien repeated, but relented as he added, “but some time soon.”_

_“But when is soon?” Oscar blurted out, but was startled when Damien responded with a sharp sigh. Oscar crossed the line into entirely new territory. He suspected the line existed, but he hadn’t been sure where it was, because until now, Damien had given into his every whim._

_He raised himself out of Damien’s lap out of embarrassment, his blotchy scars blushing redder than usual, and rose from the bed. Oscar felt stupid for standing around aimlessly, but there was no hiding in a tiny studio apartment except for..._

_“Wait,” Damien said as he dove to grab Oscar’s ankle, just before he fled to the bathroom. Of course, it made him fall on his ass with a yelp. It didn’t help that Damien was trying to hold back a smile as Oscar glared at him, outraged but secretly happy that Damien stopped him._

_“I’m sorry,” he said. Scooting closer (while pushing the food wrappers aside, Oscar noted), he asked, “Are you okay?”_

_Damien pulled him back into his warm lap with strength that made Oscar feel so delicate. “Better?” he asked Oscar, who sulked, even though his scars kept blushing red._

_“I’m_ fine _,” Oscar said, elbowing Damien’s chest, but not too roughly. “It’s gonna take more than that to break me.”_

_Damien chuckled and said, “I know.” It made Oscar want to elbow him harder, but then Damien pulled him into a hug. “It’s why I like you, Oscar.”_

_Oscar decided to let the matter go because he didn’t want to ruin the rekindled mood, but he had no clue on how to approach the first snag in their relationship. Like a fly in soup, like a fleck on fresh paint, like a goddamn bubble on a smartphone screen, it continued to bother Oscar that Damien was vague about his monthly trips. Despite Damien’s warm and good-natured personality, Oscar couldn’t overlook or accept it. Oscar had learned many times over that ignoring nagging doubts came back to bite him in the ass._

_So he planned to take the matter of next month’s camping trip into his own hands._


	3. Second

Oscar woke up alone, but snuggling into the still-warm blankets let him know that Damien hadn't woken up much earlier. Rolling over, he was ready to sleep more when he smelled fried ham, melted cheese, and coffee. He dragged himself from the bedding and poked his head out from the tent flaps. Oscar spotted Damien cooking over a healthy fire.

"Good morning," Oscar greeted, eyes droopy and tone groggy.

"Oh, you're up." Damien smiled with more warmth than yesterday. "Hungry? Either way you should eat, since we’ve got a lot to do."

Oscar retreated back inside to change his clothes quickly in the morning cold. "Like what?" he asked through the nylon walls, wondering what Damien’s mood would be today.

"Hiking, exploring. Both use a lot of energy."

"Makes sense," Oscar said, not sure what exploring they had to do. Re-emerging and taking a seat next to the fire, Oscar was handed a hot sandwich of ham and swiss cheese, as well as a cup of coffee. Though it was the same as last night, the added charm of a meal cooked over an open fire made him ravenous. He nearly didn’t notice Damien’s sandwich.

With a muffled noise of surprise, he pointed at the monstrosity, whose measly layers of cheese and bread paled in comparison to the thick cuts of ham. Oscar asked, "You’re eating all that?"

"Yeah, I'm starving. Camping always makes me so hungry,” Damien replied thickly, speaking between bites.

Oscar couldn’t muster a playful snipe about how unfair it was, since Damien was the type of person to apologize and miss the joke. Instead, Oscar gaped as Damien devoured his food. Come to think of it, Damien did eat a lot, but Oscar wasn't sure if it was in such quantities. Camping was rougher than he thought, Oscar decided, and he became a little concerned about how much physical activity would be involved. But Damien seemed to have accepted Oscar’s presence better than yesterday, so Oscar was determined to stick it out.

After they finished breakfast, Damien packed the essentials while Oscar watched. Slinging his backpack over his shoulders, Damien asked, "Ready?"

Oscar nodded in response, but his stomach was in knots. Dreading the day’s hike, he smiled to hide a grimace, but he was eager to impress.

The day’s hike was more leisurely, as they stopped often when Damien pointed out the scenery, things that Oscar would certainly miss. They saw poison ivy, rabbit holes, and a hawk’s nest. They picked and ate wild, but edible mushrooms and other unidentified greens. Damien excitedly showed Oscar a hidden, almost underground cave among the brush.

“A real find,” he called it, a broad grin on his face. Damien’s good mood was infectious and Oscar had to admit that he was having a better time than he thought.

Like clockwork Damien stopped them for breaks. Damien ordered Oscar to take sips from the canteen, even though he wasn’t thirsty, and told him to roll his ankles. Oscar offered to carry the bag, but Damien refused.

After the third break in about one and a half hours, Oscar protested, "I’m not as fragile as you think. You should know by now, but I’m pretty tough.”

"I know, but I don't want to risk something happening to you. I can do basic first aid, but we're too far from the hospital if you get seriously hurt," Damien replied. They were sitting on old, fallen tree and Damien leaned into him, which made a thrill pulse through Oscar’s chest.

"Well,” Oscar began with a drawl, leaning his head on Damien’s shoulder. “My back _is_ kind of sore. Can I get a massage later?" he asked, lashes fluttering with a cheeky smile.

“Of course,” he responded agreeably, in a way that Oscar was used to. Before this trip, Damien seldom refused Oscar outright. Seeing a familiar side of Damien comforted Oscar, who was sure that Damien was actually concerned about Oscar’s ability to handle “dispersed” camping, as Damien called it. He definitely wasn’t lying, like Oscar suspected.

Besides the two of them, the forest was silent, save for a few chirps and rustles around them, but Oscar knew better now. He was learning to appreciate the wilderness for its beauty and secrets. Inspired, Oscar whipped out his phone and threw an arm around Damien’s shoulders to pull him closer. “Come on, it’s a good time for selfies.”

Oscar directed Damien to smile as he focused the camera on them and the forest behind them. He took a few minutes to take multiple shots until their faces hurt and they laughed. Satisfied by the pictures, Oscar looked triumphant despite himself. With a look of pure delight Oscar sidled close to Damien to show him the results, but was pulled into a smothering hug.

After a long moment Oscar asked, trying not to fluster, "What is it? What’d I do?” Damien kissed him, but when he pulled back, his face reflected a torrent of emotions - a strange mix of affection and sorrow. An uncanny feeling seeped into his chest and in quiet alarm, Oscar asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Damien replied. “I wanted to hold you.”

Oscar dug his leather-clad fingers into Damien’s shirt and pulled him closer, placing a few slow, soft kisses on his lips. The way Damien fretted over him was so sweet, so unlike anyone he dated before. “Wanna go back?” Oscar murmured, his voice sultry and low. He grinned when Damien nodded in response.

Feeling light in his heart and his step, Oscar slipped his hand into Damien’s as they returned to camp. The doubt from before disappeared, replaced by abundant explanations for Damien’s past actions. Of course Damien was uncomfortable with Oscar’s prying and distrust. Of course he felt awkward bringing Oscar along when Damien was used to camping alone. They were going through absolutely normal relationship growing pains. Oscar’s heart skipped a beat when Damien gave his hand a squeeze. Damien didn’t like him any less than before.

When they returned to camp, Oscar asked brightly, “Where can I freshen up?”

“I brought wet wipes, since there are no showers around,” Damien reminded him.

Eyeing the stream, Oscar followed with, “I can’t go in the water?”

“If you want,” Damien said, giving him a curious look while he picked up kindling. “It’s going to be super cold though. Soap’s in my bag.”

Oscar couldn’t help but shiver happily as he stripped where he stood in the open. He tossed article after article of clothing in the tent, not all of them making it. “You’re sure no one else is here?” he asked.

“I didn’t see anyone,” Damien said. He had been squatting by the fire to stoke it, so didn’t see what Oscar was up to until he looked over his shoulder. “Hello there,” he said to Oscar, naked and exposed.

“Hello,” Oscar said, biting his lips to hold back a grin. With a wink he slung a towel over his shoulder and took careful steps over to the part of the stream that was out of view. He tried not to make too much noise when he gingerly stepped in, but he was in too good of a mood for the freezing water to bother him.

When Oscar was squeaky clean inside and out and dressed in nothing but a large sweater, he threw himself on Damien, who grunted on impact. Letting Oscar hang onto his shoulders, Damien said, “Hope you weren’t looking for variety.” He handed Oscar another hot sandwich with turkey and swiss and explained, “I don’t have to worry about leaving traces.”

“You mean garbage, right?” Oscar asked. “Yeah, it would be shitty to throw trash around.” He was rather touched by Damien’s concern for the environment. He certainly showed more consideration than Oscar would think to.

Releasing his hold around Damien, Oscar took a pantsless seat next to Damien. He noticed Damien had prepared another massive sandwich full of meat, though Oscar did not mention it. He didn’t want to ruin the mood set by sunset and he hoped to get lucky tonight.

It seemed Damien had sensed Oscar’s intent, because afterwards he dragged out a small tarp and laid it by the tent. Damien cocked his head at Oscar to follow suit as he grabbed a blanket and took a seat. Oscar needed no encouragement, crawling into Damien’s arms and pressing against his body. Oscar pinned him on his back and looked down, smiling with excitement.

"Look at the stars. Aren't they bright?" Damien said, looking past his gaze and at the sky.

Oscar glanced behind him. "They are," he agreed absently, paying more attention to Damien’s warmth between his legs. Eager to play, Oscar teased Damien with light nuzzles before kissing him. He ground his hips against Damien and the friction pushed his sweater up, meant to tease. Oscar licked his lips when he felt Damien’s hands settle on his bare waist.

Then Damien pushed him off abruptly. More than miffed, Oscar watched him roll over to pull something from his backpack. Damien didn’t seem to know that there were ways to retrieve items without killing the mood. Damien scooted back next to Oscar, who was frustrated, but ready to forgive if only he’d would put his hands on him. In the squandered twilight, Oscar saw that Damien was holding a small aerosol can.

"What is _that_?" Oscar asked, not bothering to hide the irritation in his voice.

"It’s bear mace,” Damien said without apology. “If you run into trouble, use this as a last resort." He pushed it into his hands. "I’d like you to keep this with you while we’re here."

Oscar bristled at the lame reason that interrupted their sexy time. "I don’t need that. Aren’t you going to be with me anyway?"

"It's important,” Damien insisted, holding a steady gaze. “I told you that there’s no hospital for miles. This can help you stay safe."

Irritation welled up in the pit of his stomach, but Oscar exhaled it out. "You’re so stupid," he muttered as he draped his arms around Damien’s shoulders.

Leaning into the hug, Damien replied with a surprising quaver in his voice, “I am pretty stupid." Smiling, he added, “Stupid for you.”

The dumb line softened Oscar’s heart. Pressing his face into Damien’s nape, he said, "I'll be fine. I don't know as much as you do, but I _definitely_ know how to stay out of trouble."

Oscar wanted to prove that he wasn’t bothered by the remoteness or the primitiveness, so lying together under the star-studded sky, he rattled off all the aspects that made him a capable human being: "I throw a mean punch _and_ I fight dirty. I can run a mile under ten minutes, and I can talk my way out of anything. I don’t like freezer food, but I can eat anything."

Damien chuckled at Oscar’s comment on frozen foods and the rumble through his chest soothed Oscar. Oscar thought about seducing him again, but exhaustion was taking over and slowing his mind. When Oscar couldn't think of anything further to list, he contemplated in silence, basking in Damien’s body warmth until he passed in and out of slumber. He felt Damien run fingers through his hair and he wiggled closer into his warm chest before falling asleep.

 

**Two Months Ago**

 

You home?

_Oscar pulled out his phone to see who had texted him and smiled when he read the question from Damien._

Ya I’m around why??

_He couldn’t stop himself from grinning. Oscar had missed Damien while he was away and it felt good to see Damien take the initiative to contact him first. Lost in his daydreaming, he nearly missed the sound of knocking at his door. Wiping his wet hands on the dish towel, he opened the door to see Damien, pink-faced and beaming with his own phone in hand._

_The pleasant surprise made Oscar purse his lips to stop himself from smiling so hard, despite the utter joy he felt in his chest. “Finally,” he said and Damien scooped him into his arms. They smooched and hugged, as if they hadn’t seen each other less than a week before. It wouldn’t be long before Damien invited Oscar to his monthly trips, he assumed, especially since Damien told him they weren’t strictly for work._

_“Hungry?” Oscar asked, looping an arm around Damien’s waist._

_“Starving,” Damien said, looking toward the kitchen._

_Oscar separated from him to open his freezer with a flourish. “It’s your lucky day,” he said with a grin. He enjoyed watching Damien’s look of amusement turn into delight._

_“My favorite,” Damien said as he pulled out two boxes of frozen pizza, loaded with extra cheese and meat._

_With a satisfied smile, Oscar turned the oven knob to preheat it. “I’ve been keeping a stash for you,” he said, hoping to be appreciated for his gesture. In this regard, Damien rarely disappointed and Oscar felt himself being pulled into an embrace._

_Both of their eyes half-closed, they exchanged quiet looks, warm caresses, and forehead bumps. Head swimming, heart pounding, breath catching, Oscar was overwhelmed by how wonderful Damien was. It was way too early to think of the L-word -- it had only been four months together --  but he couldn’t help but dive in headfirst. Oscar closed his eyes as he felt Damien run fingers through his hair._

_“Have I told you how much I love your hair?” Damien asked as he unraveled a curl and let it bounce back. “I get a little jealous, but it looks better on you anyway.”_

_“Why not grow yours out then?” Oscar asked, quietly hanging onto Damien’s use of the word ‘love.’ “I want to see your hair longer.” He ran a hand over the bristles of Damien’s clean shaven head and as he drew closer, Oscar noticed Damien’s breath smelled pleasant and fresh._

_He shook his head as he replied, “I’m a mess. I don’t know the first thing about looking good.”_

_Oscar rolled his eyes. “Yeah, because you don’t have to try.” Damien’s skin looked as clear and pristine as ever, though he swore that he didn’t do anything. Oscar would have kill him just to have his skin, but he liked Damien too much._

_The oven beeped to signal it was ready. Immediately Oscar popped two pizzas in the oven, because he knew that when Damien called himself ‘starving,’ he meant it. As they waited, Damien asked Oscar question after question._

_“How’s work been?” he asked, opening the fridge for something to drink._

_“The same,” Oscar replied as he set the timer on the oven. Damien gave Oscar an opened bottle of beer and poured himself a glass of the purple juice Oscar kept for him. Accepting the drink, he added, “Stressful, but rewarding.”_

_Leaning forward with an eager look, Damien continued, “Eat anything interesting? Did you go anywhere? Did you see Ceci? How is she?”_

_“Not really, not really, no, she’s fine,” Oscar replied, rattling off the answers about his mundane life. “I missed you too, but it’s only been like, four days?” He smiled at Damien. “What about you? How was your trip?”_

_“Boring as usual,” Damien said with a dismissive wave of a hand. “But what else have you been up to?” he asked, re-centering the focus on Oscar._

_“Nothing interesting,” Oscar said with an amused shrug. “Pretty boring here too.”_

_“Yeah, but it’s like, a nice boring.” Damien fumbled for words. “Peaceful? Full of content?”_

_Oscar smiled, but silently disagreed. It was definitely not a “good boring” without Damien. “So yours is worse or...?”_

_“My boring doesn’t have pizza or TV or_ you _,” Damien said and Oscar grinned, lacing their fingers together. It was nice to know that Oscar was on the same level as junk food and garbage TV shows._

_They settled in front of Damien’s favorite modern comfort, the television, while waiting for the pizzas to finish. With Oscar on the couch, Damien sat on the floor and wedged himself between Oscar’s knees. Far more interested in the man in his lap than watching Damien flip through channels, Oscar ran his fingers through Damien’s hair, realizing that his hair was cut recently, like he was shorn._

_“I’d like to see how you look with longer hair,” Oscar pressed again. “Skip your haircut next month just for fun.”_

_Damien looked up at him affectionately, their noses rubbing against each other. “I tried once, but I look terrible.”_

_“But I haven’t seen it,” Oscar protested, attempting a pout. “I’ll trade with you. You can ask me to do something I don’t usually do.”_

_“You don’t need to do that,” Damien said, turning his attention back to the TV. He settled on a rerun of some reality show, where two women sniped catty remarks at each other while their boyfriends watched dumbly._

_“I can wear something embarrassing or do something nice for you,” Oscar said, giving Damien’s ear a wet bite. “Something I wouldn’t usually do.”_

_“Oscar, you’re fine the way you are,” Damien said, reaching behind him to pat Oscar’s fluffy head, but instead received a rough nip on his finger. Per usual, Damien wasn’t getting the hint. Oscar slid off the couch and into his lap. He knew the motions by now: he would initiate, while Damien’s few signs of interest would be the firm grip of his hands on Oscar’s thighs and his hard cock, resting against the zipper of Oscar’s jeans._


	4. Third

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sexy times in the woods ahead.

In twilight Oscar had woken up with his cock in a mouth, which lapped and sucked with unfamiliar hunger. His hips were ahead of him though, rocking and lightly thrusting into the wet heat until he came with a gasping shudder. Oscar did not question the enthusiasm and happily returned the favor by pouncing on and swallowing Damien’s cock.

No sooner than Oscar had gulped his come did Damien pull off Oscar’s sweater with a few hard yanks. The startling roughness took Oscar aback, and he lay disoriented, still groggy from sleep. It took a moment to register that Damien’s heavy, hot body had collapsed on him, and that he was being pelted with sloppy, wet kisses.

Damien probably wanted to make up for last night, Oscar guessed, and he was pleased by the thought. He wrapped his legs around Damien’s hips and tangled his fingers in Damien’s hair, crushing his lips against lips for a kiss. When breaking for breath, they briefly bumped noses before Damien turned his attention to the crevices of his neck and shoulders. Oscar threw his arms around his neck and held tight so that Damien was focused entirely on him. He wasn’t going to let anything distract Damien again. Neither was Damien, it seemed, when Oscar felt teeth lightly nibble his nape, then scrape his throat, ending in a sharp bite on his apple.

“Nn!” Oscar grunted through gritted teeth and then an open-mouthed yelp when Damien dug teeth onto his shoulder. Oscar, vaguely concerned that he was going to be eaten, covered Damien’s mouth with a hand as he bore down on his collarbones.

Damien stared down at him with heavy-lidded, weirdly glowing eyes, his tongue tracing the gaps between Oscar’s fingers. It made Oscar’s cock twitch with renewed interest, made him bite his bottom lip, his breath catch, heart stop for one whole second. It blew away the doubts that Damien was interested in him, or that he had anything or anyone else on his mind.

Then he was keenly aware of a hand on his knee, pushing his legs open as it slid down his thigh. He licked his lips at the sight of his prick, pert and exposed to the cold morning air, and Damien stroking it and coaxing it. His body curled at the pleasure and Damien took the opportunity to push past the offending hand, pressing kisses and licks to his jaw.

In the corner of his gaze, Oscar thought he spotted Damien actually _smirking_ , but couldn’t dwell on it, since Damien hooked his hands behind Oscar’s knees and pressed his thighs backwards impatiently. Oscar gripped Damien’s arms to remind him that he wasn’t that flexible. In turn, Damien’s thick biceps reminded Oscar what kind of strength he was dealing with, which made him shudder and his dick harden. He moaned desperately when he felt Damien’s length rub and push against the cleft of his ass. Surely he was dreaming a very vivid dream, a lightheaded Oscar thought, even though he could still feel the pain of the bites on his body and the tightness in his hamstrings.

Oscar purred huskily, “How’re you going to fuck me today, mmm?” then gasped when he felt fingers dig into flesh of his ass cheeks, squeezing and spreading them apart.

“Gonna fuck you full,” Damien grunted, positioning himself at Oscar’s entrance and grinding his dick against it.

The anticipation and the promise behind Damien’s words made him tremble, but in a brief flash of reason, Oscar looked searchingly into Damien’s eyes as he asked, “Dry...?”

“Don’t worry,” Damien replied with a definite smirk, grinding harder against his ass until Oscar felt something hot and wet between his cheeks.

With amused disbelief, Oscar asked, “Wait, did you just--?” He cried out in surprise when he felt Damien push the slicked tip inside, teasing him with shallow thrusts.  

“I told you we’d be fine,” Damien said with an impatient huff, another thing Oscar had never seen from him.

“Yeah, but you --” Oscar began, but then Damien’s cock dove deeper and he cried out, eyes nearly rolling backwards and ass shaking.

“I wanna fuck,” Damien said, “not talk.” He rolled his hips against Oscar’s ass slowly, but deeply until he was buried to the hilt. Oscar couldn’t stop arching, fists gripping and tugging at Damien’s arms. Soon Damien grunted, coming into Oscar as he leaned all of his weight into him.

Exhausted, Oscar could only watch Damien fondle and massage his cock -- while he was still in him -- until it leaked warm, blissful come. Oscar grinned weakly at him, feeling completely validated by the trip and by Damien. Everything seemed just fine.

He lay for a few more minutes, allowing Damien to nuzzle and sniff him. Now wide awake, Oscar was ready to start the day.

“Hey,” he said before it was muffled by an abrupt kiss. “Are we gonna eat?” Another kiss. “Or coffee?” Kiss kiss kiss.

When Oscar put both hands over Damien’s mouth, they were flung aside and then both men were tussling with each other. Oscar giggled underneath Damien, who pinned him down with a little too much force. Oscar tried to watch Damien for cues, not sure what he was thinking, but Damien seemed relaxed, though returning his gaze with rapt attention. He found himself using all of his strength to top him, sitting on Damien and begging for coffee while Damien growled and groped his thighs under him.

Somehow he got Damien out of the tent, despite his resentful look. Oscar was perched on the tarp from the night before, still naked and peeking shyly from a blanket wrapped all over his skin. Remembering the wake up call made Oscar’s knees tuck into his chest because he was getting hard again. Plus, there was something about the image of Damien wearing nothing but a hoodie that excited Oscar. He remembered Damien’s comment about finding peace in nature and he wondered if this is what he meant.

It was like Damien had turned into another person, as if being in the woods brought out the wild outdoorsman in him. He looked so _comfortable_. Damien was so nonchalant about being half-erect, his cock unapologetically out in the cold morning air. His skin tingled in the cold as Oscar licked his lips with apprehension and anticipation. Oscar could scarcely believe that he could come a fourth time though. He had always taken Damien as a “one and done” kind of guy.

Oscar jumped a little when Damien took a seat next to Oscar and handed him a cup of coffee. He then leaned over and nestled his face in the crook of Oscar’s neck. Jolts ran through Oscar’s body as he felt Damien smell him, the exhales tickling his skin. Oscar tried to ignore him and concentrated on drinking coffee without burning himself.

When Damien nosed him more insistently, Oscar said between shivers, “Damien, hold on for a minute. Let me get some coffee in me and then--”

“Soon I’ll be,” Damien said with a toothy grin, which made Oscar swallow his coffee too fast. He winced at the heat, scrunching his face and baring his teeth. He wasn’t used to this change of pace. Oscar was usually the aggressor when it came to sex. It was he who pinned Damien and rode him to his liking, but as a hand snuck under the blanket and lightly scratched Oscar’s ribs, he wasn’t going to pretend that he didn’t fantasize about this.

Oscar sighed after the last gulp of coffee. On cue Damien became more insistent with his kisses, pressed everywhere but Oscar’s lips. They pushed Oscar backwards, who squirmed away until he was on his back. Damien loomed over him and Oscar held his breath, wondering what would happen next.

Damien withdrew, but Oscar was not disappointed when he was flipped over onto all fours, face nearly planted into the ground. Feeling vertigo, Oscar tried his best to anchor himself by gripping the blanket, not believing that Damien was going to fuck him again. Why then, couldn’t he stop gasping and trembling? He had to remember to breathe.

Damien dove in more easily for the second time, his hips slapping Oscar's ass decisively. Oscar arched again with a throaty moan. He felt fingers run through and curl around the hairs on the back of his head. He felt Damien slide out, head still in, and then suffered an excruciating pause. Oscar’s thoughts were pushed aside by lust, and he was trembling, waiting for Damien.

No more measured, deliberate thrusts, Damien gripped hard on Oscar’s curls and pistoned into his ass. Every impact made Oscar’s toes curl harder and force out a short grunt from his clenched teeth. The relentless thrusts unwound him, making him pant for air and tear up uncontrollably. He was receiving the hardest, roughest fucking in a long while, and it made him curse and moan and cry.  

"Coming," Damien hoarsely announced, a courtesy that seemed at this point odd to Oscar, who felt Damien empty himself deep inside, who kept pushing as if he was trying to soak every bit of Oscar’s insides with his seed. Oscar's thighs quivered when Damien pulled out, a lazy cloud-white string trailing after.

Before Oscar could collapse, Damien caught him with an arm around his chest and pulled him into his lap, Oscar's back to his chest. Oscar was sure his energy was drained until Damien closed a fist around Oscar’s red cock, indignant from the lack of attention. He stroked with a tight grip and Oscar's hips jolted to life, shaking and writhing in Damien’s lap. Oscar bit his lips and tried to concentrate on the strokes, but he could feel something wet and warm slip from his ass.

But as much as he would loved to come at the thought of being stuffed with his boyfriend’s seed, Oscar couldn’t. His body was spent. Dislodging Damien’s hand, he shook his head with a timid shrug. He was certain Damien was also exhausted. Oscar hoped that they could finally nap and laze around all day.

Eyes closed, Oscar felt persistent kisses along his nape. Damien nosed the side of his face until Oscar turned, meeting his lips with soft, slight kisses. Oscar had to pull back for breath when Damien’s kisses became more demanding and unceasing.

“Hey,” Oscar began, hooking an arm around Damien’s neck, but whenever he tried to get more than one word out, Damien jumped at the chance to delve deeper. Then he was hoisted and twisted until he was facing Damien, who alternated between mouthing the crook between Oscar’s neck and shoulder and kissing him.

In post-sex clarity, Oscar couldn’t stop thinking about how moist he felt. First patting, then slapping Damien’s back, Oscar broke the kiss. He put his hands firmly around Damien’s face to get a good look, but Damien kept twisting to kiss his fingers.

“Stop for a second,” he tried to say seriously, but couldn’t help but smile at the affection.

“Okay,” Damien said, loosening his hold enough to gaze at Oscar, who saw his eyes linger on the bite marks that littered his body. Oscar glanced at the one he could see, one under his right pec, where the flesh was thin. Red and tender, it hadn’t faded away. In the corner of his eye, Oscar could see that Damien’s slight smile turned into a broad grin.

“You don’t know how glad I am that you’re here,” Damien said. He leaned in to caress Oscar’s cheek with his nose as Oscar was shocked into silence. This was the first time he said anything positive about Oscar’s presence. It was without hesitation and even enthusiastic, which warmed Oscar’s heart and weakened his resolve.

So Oscar didn’t complain when Damien ran his calloused palms up his sides and down his back, though he was shocked when Damien nudged his cock, already hard again, against the cleft of Oscar’s ass.

“You’re mine,” Damien said lowly, the rumble traveling through his chest and against Oscar’s. Damien gripped Oscar’s thighs with unwavering strength and pushed him down onto his dick. The most Oscar could do was dig his nails into Damien’s shoulders, since Damien controlled the speed, the depth, and the friction.

At least he was gentler, Oscar thought in a haze, mouth open and toes clenched because Damien had come inside him again. Damien paused, chest heaving, then started grinding again.

“Damien?” Oscar asked, though it sounded more like pleading. He felt his legs being spread for Damien to thrust deeper for what seemed like the sixth, seventh, eighth time? He’d lost count by then.

“I have to make you mine,” Damien said.

Oscar gasped and arched when he felt Damien come yet again, but he coughed from the spit that had welled in his mouth. “I am yours,” he insisted wetly. “But my ass needs a break.”

“But your mouth doesn’t, right?” Damien asked with a wide grin. “I need to come so bad, Oscar. Need to fuck you full.”

Oscar chewed on his bottom lip, wrestling with an answer. They had to have a serious talk about Damien visiting the doctor, Oscar told himself as reached for a wet wipe. This couldn’t be healthy, he thought as he slid down to his knees. Nose to Damien’s beautiful cock -- still thick, still hard -- Oscar swallowed and moaned when he felt fingers run through his hair. Yes, they could discuss all of this tomorrow.

 

**Three Months Ago**

 

_Damien still didn’t ask why Oscar insisted on wearing gloves, jackets, and/or hoodies in the sweltering summer. He didn’t seem to mind whenever they were intimate, content to fool around with clothes on. Oscar personally felt a certain thrill in stroking their exposed cocks while the rest of their bodies were covered up, like hiding a dirty secret._

_But out of curiosity -- three months was a long time not to ask -- Oscar wanted to know how far they could go before Damien would comment on his habit. To his surprise, their first time fucking was Oscar riding Damien without a peep about how his gloves and long-sleeved shirt were still on. At the moment, this experiment was the furthest thought from Oscar’s mind -- he was finally getting that good dick, goddammit -- but in retrospect, he felt a little foolish._

_Sure, Oscar made the choice to hide his hideous scars, but he was annoyed at himself for setting a weird precedent. The one time when it was natural to see him naked, Oscar had ruined. He probably gave Damien the impression that that was his kink, instead of a necessity._

_He covered his scars because they burned easily in the sun, but it also helped stave off rude stares and questioning looks. Growing up, Oscar had wished people didn’t focus so much on his scars, which seemed to overshadow him, no matter what Oscar did or how he behaved._

_What hurt most were his exes’ reactions to them, which ranged from insensitive jokes about how his arms looked like a pair of elderly, flaccid dicks to outright breaking up because they couldn’t be seen with him. These left their own particular scars, even though no reaction surprised him anymore. Oscar had to learn to toughen up, which made it extremely difficult to be vulnerable._

_Damien was the first not to steal glances nor express any morbid interest in what Oscar was hiding. Oscar also tried to play it cool. If Damien didn’t think it was a big deal, why should he? But it_ was _turning into a big deal, which drove Oscar crazy. With anyone else, Oscar would have laughed it off and maybe ghost the relationship, but he was growing fond of kind, easy-going, handsome Damien. The longer Oscar waited to show his scars, the more it would hurt, but it had already been too long._

_After a date and coming back to Oscar’s apartment, he decided to rip off his figurative band-aid. Muttering nervously about how weak his air conditioner was and how hot his apartment was, he took a seat on the couch and, without facing Damien, he slowly pulled off one glove and then another. Oscar mustered the courage to glance up and found Damien standing over him and paying solemn attention. The silence, besides the soft creaks of leather, made the whole ordeal strangely ceremonial._

_Wearing a leather jacket in the middle of summer was worse in a lukewarm apartment, and he was relieved to shrug it off, revealing the thin tank top underneath and the burn scars that clung to his shoulders, arms, and hands. Mottled and wrinkled, they drooped in some places and stretched in others. The red splotches, clashing with the rest of his skin, looked as painful as Oscar’s feelings currently felt._

_He swallowed the heavy lump in his throat and was too scared to look up, his expression both defiant and tender. He could feel Damien staring at him, which made Oscar uncomfortable. He felt so naked and ugly. Jaw clenched, Oscar assumed the worst. Expecting Damien to make a lame, insensitive comment or an excuse to leave, he tossed his clothes onto the couch arm and said, "I’m thirsty.”_

_He turned toward the kitchen, but Damien touched his elbow, gently hooking his hand into the crook. Oscar’s heart leapt, the blood flooding his face. He felt like they were in one of Damien’s trash soap operas, but the giddy, hopeful feeling let Oscar understand why Damien enjoyed them so much. Even so, he was mortified that the rush of emotions made him tear up._

_He let Damien lead him back to the couch, taking a seat next to him. He felt his wrists in Damien’s warm grip, sweaty palms up. Usually the revealing was a mood killer, but Damien seemed fascinated._

_“Can I touch…?” he asked hesitantly, to which Oscar nodded without meeting his gaze. He loved skin contact and he received so little, though he always had to insist that his scars were old and no longer fragile. The way Damien’s hands ran down his arms, his thumbs traced taut lines made Oscar’s heart flutter. It gave him courage to face Damien, who was wholly concentrated on the soft, red valleys and craters that Oscar knew by heart._

_Damien’s eyes were animated and bright, different from the peaceful, sedate look he always wore. The striking contrast surprised Oscar. It was like seeing a flicker of another side. The exploration ended with Damien entwining their fingers, palms touching. He met Oscar’s gaze with a kind, or rather, knowing expression._

_“Thank you,” Damien said with deep respect, which made Oscar suspicious. This response was too good to be real, Oscar thought, pulling an unconscious frown. Oscar braced himself for the inevitable questions, but Damien seemed content with just looking._

_Oscar entertained the thought that Damien was fascinated in a way that spectators were at freak shows. Anxiety peaking, Oscar said sullenly, "Really gross, right?"_

_Broken out of his stupor, Damien turned to glance sideways at Oscar. "No," he replied, his expression surprised, as if it hadn’t occurred to him to be disgusted._

_"Really?" Oscar replied with disbelief, but remembered that he had been reassured before, had naively believed that it was okay until it wasn’t. To challenge Damien’s claim -- and because he had always wanted to -- Oscar reached out and cupped Damien’s face with both hands._

_Damien’s cheeks were warm and his stubble rough on his sensitive hands. Swallowing anxious comments was difficult. He wanted to respond to questions that he had been asked before, so that he wouldn’t have to hear Damien ask them. Yes, I know my skin feels like mushy raisins. Yes, I promise my hands are clean. No, they don’t flake any more than regular skin._

_He trailed a hand down the side of Damien’s neck while the other ran fingers over Damien’s lips. It all felt so good against his skin and Damien’s quiet acceptance was encouraging -- or maybe it was pity, Oscar’s doubt whispered. That was far worse than disdain. He’d break up with Damien on the spot if that were the case. Sick of poor, pathetic, little Oscar, he had fought hard for his own identity._

_Still, the sight of his awful, maimed hands framing Damien’s handsome face spurred a bout of insecurity, and suddenly Oscar was dying to hear what Damien thought._

_Oscar asked, voice full of hesitation, "What do you think of them, my scars?"_

_“I love them,” Damien replied emphatically. He threw his arms around Oscar’s waist and pulled him closer. It wasn’t pity in his gaze, nor sympathy in his slow smile. “Don’t hide them from me anymore.”_

_“I won’t,” Oscar said, charmed both by his words and the fact that he definitely, undoubtedly said ‘_ love.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It warms my heart when I get kudos emails. Thanks, you guys!!!! :")


	5. Fourth

Oscar woke up in the middle of afternoon. He knew because the sunlight beamed down on him, steaming him inside the tent. Stretching and yawning, he felt slow-witted and heavy. He carefully eased on yesterday's pants and a sweater, wincing and groaning at the ripples of pain all over his body. He pressed his fingers into the human-like bundle of blankets, where Damien wasn’t.

He unzipped the tent flaps and stepped out to find that no fires were started and no breakfast was prepared, because Damien wasn’t here either. He recalled yesterday’s events, where he had to banish Damien from the campsite, since it was clear he wasn’t going to stop rutting him. Oscar was wrung out, milked dry, fucked stupid before he was close to knowing whether Damien would stop ejaculating.

Oscar remembered grumpily cleaning the come from the blankets, tarp, and his body as best as he could.  He remembered waiting for Damien to come back -- thinking over and over about what had happened -- until he passed out. The whole day was so surreal that it seemed like a long, lucid dream, drifting in and out of sleep.

Oscar couldn’t tell if Damien had returned at some point. His bag was still slouched next to the tent. Perplexed, he rummaged in his bag to find that, besides the clothes Oscar made Damien take, nothing was missing. The jingle of the car keys meant that Damien hadn’t left the campsite.

His senses waking up, Oscar also noticed a pungent, rank smell surrounding him. The air was pleasantly warm, but it made the lingering stink worse. Circling the campsite, Oscar found and bent over to examine suspicious dark spots in the dirt. With a wrinkle of his nose, he decided that some animal had probably marked their territory here. He felt unsettled by the idea, but even that took a backseat to Damien’s disappearance.

“Damien!” Oscar called out into the forest. “Hey!” he tried to yell louder. “Damien!”

His stomach growled in response, reminding him that he hadn’t been able to eat yesterday. Oscar was starving, but he didn’t know how to start a fire. He resorted to devouring the half-finished bag of jerky they brought. As he dug through the cooler, he realized that it had been left out overnight, though Damien had warned him that doing so would attract animals. Annoyed, Oscar grabbed a few more morsels before hoisting it up the treetops.

As he walked around the campsite and peered through the trees to find signs of Damien, the fact that he was effectively stranded began to weigh on him. He didn’t have the eyes to spot details, nor did any jump out at him. Was the twig broken because of Damien or the animal that pissed all over their campsite? A crusty, white spot could be tree sap or bird shit or any number of wet substances.

He had no choice but stay put and wait for Damien to return. It briefly occurred to him that Damien could be punishing him for refusing sex, but there was so much wrong with that thought that Oscar surprised himself, though doubt began to creep in. He wasn’t that petty, was he?

Reminding himself to search the internet for ‘most ejaculations in a day,’ Oscar figured he could try to start a fire so that he wasn’t waiting in the cold. Oscar dug around in Damien’s backpack for the lighter, but also found a roll of reflective tape. He frowned as he wondered why Damien hadn’t used this to mark the trail to the car, especially since he claimed to be an experienced outdoorsman. Then again, Damien had no trouble returning to camp when they hiked together. Oscar’s frown deepened with growing frustration. For all of his fussing, Damien hadn’t prepared him for this, whatever _this_ was.

Stoking the infant flame was a welcome distraction. Oscar couldn’t help but be proud of his growing fire, which was an unexpected comfort. Keeping an eye on the fire to make sure it was stable, Oscar taped the trees surrounding the camp with the reflective tape. He was working up the courage to brave the woods to search for Damien, because the sun was setting and he hadn’t returned.

He was satisfied that the campsite would be visible from a distance, so with bear mace and flashlight in hand, Oscar hesitantly set out. The thicket was much less welcoming alone, and Oscar had to fight the urge to stick every single tree with the reflecting tape, since it was half used to begin with.

In the quiet Oscar couldn’t ignore the dread that sank into his gut and made his steps drag. All by himself with his thoughts, the worst case scenarios seemed to become more vivid. What if he ran into a bear and was snatched away? What if he accidentally fell off a cliff and broke his legs? Whenever he frightened himself with a worst case scenario, he taped a tree and looked backwards to reassure himself. At one point he was too far to see the campsite. The tape did glow as expected, though so eerily that Oscar found it hard to take comfort in it.

At the same time, he was furious at Damien, who obviously abandoned him. He was mad at himself for getting swept away in another dead-end relationship, and he was disappointed that he couldn’t trust Damien. Still, though he was certain Damien had done this on purpose, Oscar looked for him in the slim chance that his boyfriend was in trouble.

As everything took a gloomier shade in twilight, he slowed to a nervous pace as he toed for roots or other obstacles that might trip him. He not had seen nor heard any signs of Damien, and the forest was quickly growing ominous. He decided to turn back whenever he ran out of tape. Fortunately, the moon was full that night and the sky was cloudless, so he could see taped trees in the distance winking back at him.

The darkness made his body tense, which made his hips and legs ache again. He was increasingly aware of the sounds he made as he stepped on twigs and rustled through dead leaves. These background noises were now at the center of his attention, and now he constantly looked over his shoulder. He didn't remember owls hooting, crickets chirping, or leaves rustling so loudly, but the silence that cushioned them was worse. He put his hands in his pockets and remembered the bear mace that Damien had given him. Strangely comforted, he wrapped his fingers around it, giving Damien begrudging thanks.

In his state of heightened awareness, he noticed a distinct smell of ash. He wanted to investigate the first sign of human life, but the roll of tape had run out. Looking behind him at the tape-lit path, he decided that it was bright enough to spot in the distance, so he changed directions. The scent made Oscar wonder who was out here. Maybe the person had seen Damien. Maybe it was Damien.

Between the trees and underbrush, Oscar saw a faint flicker of fire in the distance. The light was so dim that Oscar would have missed it had he not been on alert.  He turned off the flashlight and moved forward as quietly as he could, using every muscle to make his steps light. If it was Damien, maybe he could catch him in the act, whatever it was. Oscar began to relax. Even if it was another person, at least he could ask for help.  

Oscar crouched low and drew closer to the faded light. Though he didn’t see anything, he heard the continuous sound of scraping and scratching on the ground. Then came the sound of moist ripping, then strained tearing. A low, guttural groan made the dread sink like a stone in Oscar’s stomach, because it was distinctly not human. Was it the bear that Damien kept warning him about?

Because he had to _see_ it to believe it, Oscar ducked lower to peek through the leaves, whatever crevices he could find to catch a glimpse. He jumped when he heard a limp thud. He saw the embers flutter into the air, as well as a cloud of ash, and smelled acrid burning.

Oscar craned his neck and managed to get a direct view of the fire pit, which was steadily burning something that was pitch-black, hairy and loose. It was glistening, dripping, and parts of it were crackling and popping from the heat. Oscar realized the smell was was a mix of burnt hair and meat. Maybe the bear had fallen into the pit and was having trouble getting out, which would be great. Oscar could easily outrun it.

But that wasn’t right. The way the animal burned was all wrong. The edges were _curling_. Oscar couldn’t describe what he was seeing into words. It was like the animal had no substance, no muscle. It was fluttering in the fire.

He heard a crack that seemed too loud to come from such a small flame. The beastly sound repeated, starting as a groan that turned into gurgling. His eyes darted, searching for another gap in the leaves, as instinct began to urge him to run.

 _Get up. Get away._ The gurgling turned into choking, and the frequency of pops and cracks spiked, scattered like sharp notes into the black. _Run. Move._

Unconsciously he positioned himself to flee at a moment’s notice, slowly sliding his leg backwards to gain better traction. But as his leg shook under him, he realized it was numb. Trying to stave off panic, Oscar bit his lip and willed his legs to move as quietly as possible.

Of course, he slipped and fell face forward into the dirt and rotted leaves, which rustled and bristled at the impact. He couldn’t help but cry out in frustration as he wrestled with the debris and scrambled to all fours.

At once Oscar looked straight up into a pair of large, glowing eyes, reflecting the fire but much, much brighter. Falling backwards in shock, his limbs moved without direction. It wasn’t a bear. _It wasn’t a fucking bear._

Oscar didn’t remember getting to his feet. All he could think about was getting back to camp and the certainty that _it wasn’t a fucking bear._ In a burst of adrenaline, he was sprinting away, fumbling for the bear mace and realizing that he had dropped the flashlight.

Cursing out loud, because it didn’t matter at this point, Oscar searched desperately for his path, his lifeline. He nearly screamed when he found it, because it looked like several pairs of moonlit eyes were watching him from the dark, just like the eyes he had seen before. Though path gave him a scrap of hope to cling to, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched all around.

He couldn’t hear anything beyond his own panting and uneven pace. Whenever he tripped on roots or rocks, he clawed his way back up, his slippery gloves long abandoned. He couldn’t dare look behind him, but the grotesque image was burned into his eyes, so it felt as though it was on his heels.

Oscar was breathless, but grateful when the campsite came into view, even though the fire had dwindled to embers. Even in his terrified state of mind, he felt idiotic for wrenching open the tent and diving in. He fumbled with the zipper as he closed it and huddled in the center. There was no way a flimsy tent could withstand anything beyond heavy rain, and it was a matter of minutes before that _thing_ would rip through to get him.

He held onto the can of bear mace, deciding that he wouldn't be easy to take down. Sitting in pitch black helped him pay attention to any surrounding noises, but that awful image burned into his brain, as if taunting him.

Though the shadow of night, he could see the torso glistening and completely skinned, its muscles and fat stretched taut over visible bones. The veins shone blue under the ghostly white tissue. Its snout was drooping, as if crushed, and its jaw was scarlet, wide open and lolling listlessly.

By any account, it should have been dead, but it wasn’t. Every strand of connecting tissue was moving, every muscle twitching and jerking, bones snapping, sinew writhing like newborn maggots. Its entire being spasmed, but it was clearly standing, its mirror-like gaze on Oscar.

He heard rustling, creaks, trills, and flutters outside, but Oscar believe all of the noises belonged to that thing. All sense of time was lost, and Oscar wasn’t sure the sun would rise again.

The stress made his body shiver, which irritated and centered his focus on his wounds. He couldn’t see, only feel the scrapes on his face and arms and the punctures in his legs. His sweater and side was torn, the ragged edges wet. The smell of blood filled his nose. He blinked and tears spilled over and burned his scraped cheek. His body grew colder, overwhelmed by the terrible fact that he was alone in this hellish forest.

He did not leave the tent nor sleep, but remained tense and wide-eyed, playing with the notion that he was sleeping and dreaming a nightmare.

 

**Four Months Before**

 

 _Damien seemed to be the perfect rebound. He was fun to be around, but didn’t seem interested in anything serious, which was exactly what Oscar wanted. Despite their flirty banter, he wasn’t sure if Damien was being a gentleman or just not interested in him physically. Maybe they were playing intimacy chicken, where the man with the bluest balls gave in. Oscar didn’t have_ that _much pride, especially in a silly game where both parties technically won. He was happy to give an extra hard nudge, and if Damien wasn’t interested, no harm no foul. Guys like Oscar had to have realistic expectations after all._

_They ended up one night at Oscar’s tiny studio on the pretext of coffee, which Damien did not drink._

_“Can you give me a hand?” Oscar asked, giving a long look over his shoulder as he walked to the kitchen, which was cramped and wonderfully suited for his purposes._

_Amused, Damien asked, “And what do you need help with?” He hovered just inside the entrance, leaning against the door frame. Oscar very much appreciated the sight of his masculine figure barely fitting his tiny kitchen._

_“I need to know how much coffee to make,” Oscar said, without much thought to his actual answer._

_Then Damien broke out in a good-natured laugh and replied, “I don’t drink coffee. Did you forget?”_

_“You don’t?” Oscar said, drawing out the cadence. He shifted to press himself against Damien, whose back was to the wall, and asked with an impish smile, “Then what’s there to do in the kitchen?”_

_Before Damien could respond with his literal answers, Oscar snaked his arms around Damien’s shoulders and leaned in to plant his softest, most suggestive kiss on him. Oscar pulled back with a coy, half-lidded look that all but threw himself at Damien._

_Damien didn’t lean in to return the kiss and placed only fingertips on Oscar’s sides, but did look pleased and intrigued, which gave Oscar enough courage to kiss him again. He curled his fingers around Damien’s shirt collar and pulled him forward. Grinding against Damien, Oscar could feel that he was hard and responding to the friction._

_“Wanna take this somewhere else?” Oscar asking, purring lowly in the warm space between them._

_“Do you?” Damien countered in a way that Oscar wasn’t sure if he was being playful or an asshole._

_“Yeah, I definitely do,” Oscar replied in a final, coquettish push for Damien to get the hint._

_“Then let’s go?” Damien replied with a questioning glance, as if it was something that needed no beating around the bush._

_Oscar stopped the act for a second, rethinking Damien’s responses. “Wait, what do you think we’re gonna do?”_

_“Whatever you want,” Damien replied with a hint of a sweet smile._

_“What about you?” Oscar paused, holding his breath before adding, “You should want it too.” He was trying to stave off the dismay that rattled his nerves. Rebounds meant careless fun, were supposed to be physical without the baggage. There shouldn’t be room for self-consciousness._

_“It doesn’t really matter,” Damien replied lightly. “I’ll do whatever you want to do.”_

_Definitely perplexed by the change in pace, Oscar said, after biting his lip, “I_ prefer _if you want it too.”_

_Not at all fazed by Oscar’s confusion, his eyes brightened and added, “Oh, let me rephrase. I want to do whatever you want to do, Oscar,” as if that clarified everything. His words wasn’t much comfort, no matter how earnestly Damien spoke. Oscar was hoping for a spontaneous hookup, but the exchange threw him off. Oscar still wasn’t sure if Damien was attracted to him, but decided to take another stab at it, albeit slower._

_They made out for a while, gradually stoking the heat between them. When they broke contact, Damien looked at Oscar with affectionate amusement, but in a husky whisper that skittered down Oscar’s back, Damien said, “You can do whatever you want with me.”_

_It was too soon to strip down and reveal his scars, but the clear invitation electrified his senses. Oscar found himself wanting to know more about this funny man. He wanted to see what made him tick, to peel back layers and peer at what was inside. More importantly, he wanted to see Damien lose composure under his hands, mouth, and tongue_ right now.

_As Oscar pulled Damien’s shirt off and watched as it revealed hard pecs and defined abs, he pulled Damien by the wrists to his bedroom and pushed him down._

_Sitting on Damien’s firm thighs, Oscar leaned over and kissed whatever bare spot of skin he wanted. He caught himself watching for Damien’s reaction, but firmly reminded himself that none of this was supposed to matter. Oscar was supposed to enjoy himself just as much as Damien. He was supposed to revel in the fact that he was with a man way hotter and nicer than -- fuck! Oscar rested his head against Damien’s stomach, taking a second to drive away thoughts of his hateful ex._

_It certainly didn’t help that Damien laid back while Oscar undid his jeans and worked them off. What was he doing with him anyway? With Oscar, the pitiful, mole-rat of a human? Oscar decided to take his quibble with the universe out on Damien. It was so unfair, Oscar sulked, though he stopped the pity party for a second when Damien’s hard cock bobbed from Oscar peeling back his briefs._

_“What now?” he asked, stroking Oscar’s jawline and interrupting Oscar’s thoughts. Damien smiled harder now that he was naked and Oscar couldn’t help but gape, wondering where he should start._

_Pride made Oscar shoot back a cheeky, wry smile. It felt like Damien was teasing him. “I’m gonna wipe that stupid smile off of your face,” he said, nearly growling. He was going to swallow his dumb prick, and make his dumb legs shake, and make lights flash behind his dumb eyelids when Oscar made him come._

_To his irritation, Damien’s smile grew broader, like Oscar couldn’t do it. Of course he could, Oscar thought to himself. This beautiful fool had no idea what he was in for. Oscar felt better than he had for some time. With his clothes on, he’d gladly show Damien not to underestimate him. What he lacked in appearance, he made up for tenfold in heart and grit -- a truth that he had forgotten until now._


	6. Fifth

Oscar decided that he wasn't dreaming when he saw faint shadows through the tent, slowly growing sharper with the sunrise. Rigid from the night before, Oscar was loathe to move and every little movement shot pain through his body. Plus, he’d become fond of the idea that the tent was keeping him safe. He allowed himself a deep breath, but choked when he heard rustling and then the distinct sound of footsteps.

The lack of sleep made him slow. For a good minute he was unable to process what was happening, only that it was time to panic again. Chest tight, he began to hyperventilate as he fumbled the can of bear spray.

Oscar heard noises that suggested a backpack was being opened. That was fine. Oscar would hold his breath and give no hints that he was there. Then he’d probably stay put for another few hours or forever. Or until death, Oscar thought with resignation, when he heard the steps approach the tent.

“Oscar,” a hoarse voice whispered. Then sunlight blinded Oscar, making him squint in pain.  

Adjusting to the light, Oscar saw Damien, who looked like he had just come from a refreshing jaunt in the woods. His skin was dewy and flushed, while his eyes were bright. His overall expression was calm, as if it was normal to abandon someone without notice. Damien crawled inside and hugged Oscar, who was in a daze from a night of no sleep and paralyzing terror.

“Damien?” he croaked as he felt the hug tighten. He pulled back to get a good look at Damien, who looked relieved, like a minor inconvenience had been resolved. It was a stark contrast to the overbearing worry and concern that Oscar had become well familiar with over the past few days. For a few seconds, Oscar stared blankly at him and his maddening, unfathomable serenity, then he snapped.

“Where were you!” Oscar shrieked, shoving Damien backwards. “Do you know what I've been through?" Tears started pouring out in relief and anger. "You _left_ me here and I have _no_ idea how to get back to the car! Do you know what’s out here?" Oscar couldn’t stop screaming. “What were you doing? What the _fuck_ were you doing?”

"I wanna go home right now," Oscar said hoarsely, refusing Damien the space to talk. “Fuck all of this shit, fuck you, and fuck this fucking place. Take me the fuck home right now.”

“Sure, Oscar,” Damien said, voice rough but quiet. “Let me just pack up.”

“No,” Oscar snapped, furious at his subdued reaction. He was right to be hysterical, goddammit. “I don’t care about any of this shit. Take me to the car now and you can come back for this later and get yourself killed, or whatever the fuck you want, because _we’re through._ ” He tried to push past Damien, who grabbed his elbow.

“Oscar, don’t,” Damien began as Oscar snatched his arm back.

Oscar stared at him, certain that Damien was out of his mind. “What are you talking about? Look at me!” Pressing his fingers against his chest, he made Damien get a good look at his sorry state. His clothes were stained with blood where there were tears, and he was sure his eyes were bloodshot with exhaustion and rage. The sight in broad daylight even startled Oscar and made him more miserable. Damien had seen him injured and bleeding and thought everything was _fine_.

This made Oscar angrily whip around to flee the tent, but again was pulled back by Damien. Outraged that Damien continued to mistreat him, Oscar balled a fist and swung at Damien, but it was caught squarely in his palm.

“Let go!” Oscar growled, but the grips around his arm and fist tightened. “You asshole, let go of me!” Fear began to tinge his fury, but Oscar wouldn’t let himself be intimidated.

A weary Oscar struggled against Damien, but couldn’t fight his strength. A burst of adrenaline darted through him and he wedged his forearm between them and he shot a venomous glare at Damien, who grimaced with awful slits for pupils, his irises glowing in the dimness of the tent. They alternated between a burning orange and sickly yellow-green, though they gazed at Oscar, unwavering. Oscar’s heart lurched, but couldn’t put the reason why to words. Damien firmly held Oscar in place to face him, but instinct kept Oscar resisting, twisting in his alarmingly slimy grasp.

“Stop,” he said, his voice cracking in fright. “Damien, stop.” His skin was crawling on instinct. His whole being knew he was not safe.

Oscar could see Damien’s hair was cut, as if shorn. His skin was red but clear and glistening, as if he were new. He could smell ash from his clothes and his pained eyes glowed, like mirrors reflecting blood moonlight. Oscar didn’t want to see any of it, and he hated that Damien forced him to see all it. His gaze sank. He didn't have the strength to hold his head up. God, he was so tired. Oscar just wanted to go home, but instead --

“I’m dying today, aren’t I?” he asked, head hanging in exhaustion and surrender. He cursed his wretched life. “That’s why you brought me here, isn’t it?”

Damien released his arms and said, “I can’t carry all this stuff alone,” then suffered Oscar’s last scrap of fury. He held his cheek, where Oscar had slapped him for his ill-timed joke. Was he trying to be funny?

The blow echoed into a tinny ringing in the silence. Each regarded the other, wondering what the other man was going to do next, until Oscar said with wide-eyes, “...You’re bleeding.”

Oscar saw Damien’s eyes move downward, then spot the bear mace on the tent floor. He didn’t move to defend himself, though his wound was weeping red. Oscar then looked at his own hand. The scrapes were just beginning to scab over, so his hand was still soft and smooth -- not enough to scratch.

Damien hadn’t made an effort to curb the bleeding, save from holding his face together. A scarlet trickle made its way down his neck and the tent was filling with the smell of iron. Oscar was so fucking confused, wanting to both throw his hands in the air and shake Damien by the shoulders.

“Well?” Oscar asked, nearly hysterical. “Don’t you have bandages or something? What the fuck, Damien?” The way he cupped his cheek suggested it was an open wound, something Oscar thought impossible from a slap.

“Sorry,” Damien said in a hushed voice. His shoulders sagged. “I wasn’t trying to be funny.”

Inwardly groaning, Oscar remembered Damien’s habit for literal answers. The idiot had been trying to explain that Oscar was safe with him, that he had no intention to kill him.

“You owe me an explanation with actual words,” Oscar snapped. He leaned backwards and poked his head out of the tent to grab Damien’s backpack. Fishing for supplies, he continued, “Also, I’m sure you can dump half of the camping gear off of a cliff, so you aren’t convincing me, you bastard.” Gauze in hand, Oscar ordered, “Let me see.”

Damien’s skin was so thin that Oscar slapping him was like striking a paper bag filled with meat. Oscar had to pack the gauze on, racing against the blood that soaked through each layer, and finally applying generous amounts of tape over his nose, his temple, and under his jaw.

“Don’t you have super fast healing or whatever?” Oscar grumbled as Damien in turn took the first-aid kit from him. He couldn't believe what he was saying.

Damien's hands paused and hovered over Oscar. Damien asked as he pointedly looked at Oscar’s bloodied clothes, “Can you -- ? It’s a long walk back...”

“This I can do myself,” Oscar said, snatching back the kit. He winced as he peeled off his shirt and jeans, which stuck to his scabs. Just what he needed, Oscar thought, more disfiguring scars. He sniffled back angry tears as he disinfected his wounds, some of which began to bleed again. Giving Damien a sharp side-eye, he nonetheless accepted his offering of bandages. Damien seemed to understand that Oscar was not going to let him touch him without permission.

He worked in silence until Oscar remarked, “You’re not talking.”

After a few more seconds, in which Damien chewed on his lips, sighed, furrowed his brows, he replied, “It’s hard.”

Sitting naked in his briefs, covered in bandages, salve, bruises and scratches, Oscar gave him an acrid glare.

Damien waffled, looking especially pitiful with the bandage covering half of his face. It was yet another side that Oscar witnessed for the first time. It wasn’t a good look for him, but it satisfied Oscar immensely.

Damien couldn’t meet his gaze though, when he asked, “You really breaking up with me?”

Oscar paused, remembering that he had indeed declared this minutes ago. Now it was his turn to flounder. He looked down, his hands in his lap and Damien’s in his own. Oscar frowned at his hands out of habit. He used to dislike how distasteful his ugly, mottled hands looked on Damien’s near flawless skin. He remembered when he first exposed his scars to Damien and he remembered his unusual reaction.

Then a connection between past and present was made, then another and another until it all began to come into focus. He held Damien’s hands in his. His veins felt so soft against Oscar’s thumbs when pressed. His hands were sticky, the same kind of liquid that cushioned blisters, which explained his slimy grip. Oscar patted his arms gently, mesmerized because they were similarly sticky. When he wiped a spot with his dirty shirt, the liquid re-emerged. Damien was oozing like a giant blister.

His hands traveled up to Damien’s neck and Oscar met his eyes, which were the same coffee brown that he knew, no longer glowing eerily. The warm, sentimental way Damien looked at him made Oscar fluster, and he was frustrated that he was ready to forgive him. Oscar pinched his good cheek a little too hard, but it felt normal nevertheless. He poked his nose and prodded his mouth to examine his teeth. All seemed as Oscar knew it, but they were in entirely new territory, or rather, a different planet.

“I’m so sorry I hurt you, Oscar,” Damien said, clutching at his shirt in lieu of touching Oscar. “I needed you to understand.” Oscar could see that his silence was making Damien nervous. “I’ll do anything to make it up to you.”

Still processing the situation, Oscar realized he hadn’t thought too hard about how serious he was about Damien. Now they shared this strange secret between them. There was no going back. In hindsight he felt foolish for pressuring Damien to take him camping, but there was no way that Oscar could have guessed such an outrageous truth.

“Why didn’t you try harder to stop me?” Oscar asked, nearly whining. “Or try to convince me?”

Looking at Oscar steadily, he replied, “Because you would have left me, and I --” Damien paused. “I don’t want that. I needed you to see for yourself.” He licked his lips and admitted, “I knew you sensed I was lying. Words weren’t enough.”

“So you couldn’t be like, ‘hey, I turn into a monster for a day, so just hang on until I come back?’” Oscar asked, raising his voice. “Or ‘my body does this weird thing, but don’t worry because it’ll be okay?’ I was terrified! I thought you were hurt or you abandoned me! I thought _you_ dumped me.”

“I’m sorry, Oscar,” Damien repeated in a pleading tone. “I was scared too. I’ve never done this with anyone else before. I had no idea how this was supposed to happen without losing you.”

“Well, I guess I can never leave now,” Oscar shouted. “I guess I’m just stuck with you forever now, aren’t I? You’re so stupid!”

Damien shook his head vehemently and said, “That’s not true. That’s not true at all. You’re always free to do whatever you want.” He bitterly added, “I just thought -- I just thought that --” His entire body shook, unable to finish the sentence.

“You thought what? That it would just work out?” Oscar asked. “How am I supposed to process this? Did you think about that? ‘My boyfriend probably isn’t human.’ Saying that sounds so stupid, but honestly, who knows when I can say it out loud again.”

Oscar threw himself backward onto the blankets. “I hate you,” he said. “I’m going to take a nap because I’m so fucking tired. Don’t even try touching me until you stop making that gross slime. We’d better be ready to leave by the time I wake up.” He kicked his heels against the ground, groaning, “My boyfriend is so fucking stupid. I’m so goddamn stupid.”

Oscar closed his eyes, thinking over and over about how he had gotten himself in this mess. It pissed him off when Damien cleared his throat.

“Do you --” Damien began.

Lifting his head, Oscar snapped, “Why are you still here? I’m trying to sleep.”

Damien scrambled out of the tent to obey his boyfriend’s orders. Once he was sure that Damien wouldn’t bother him again, he closed his eyes. In the space between sleep and consciousness, Oscar admitted to himself that there was nothing they could have done to change this outcome. It seemed they were inevitable.

 

**Five Months Ago**

  


_Oscar stood away from the bar entrance, preferring to brood in the shadows. His hands were shoved into his jacket pockets and his eyebrows were furrowed fiercely to stave off the tears. The beats of the bar music were muffled, but Oscar could feel the bass pounding through the air and the pavement. It felt like the rhythm was mocking him, because everyone else was having a good time while he was heartbroken, a discordant note._

_He felt silly for lingering and wishing that Jorge would chase after him, but he knew that wasn't going to happen. Sighing, he kicked at a loose bit of concrete until it was freed from the sidewalk. Then he deftly kicked up the piece of debris and aimed at a stray cat that had crept out of the alley nearby. Startled, it jumped up and skittered back to the darkness._

_"What’d the cat do?"_

_Embarrassed that someone was watching him, he looked to his left, where a man had sidled next to him. In the dim lighting Oscar could tell he was handsome, made more so by the shadows that fell on him, but Oscar was in a horrible mood._

_“Wrong place, wrong time?” Oscar offered as a wry answer, not interested in engaging. The door swung open, either to let party goers in or out. Oscar glanced over for the nth time, hoping that his boyfriend would emerge and apologize._

_“Waiting for someone?” the stranger asked, interrupted his glum thoughts._

_“Kind of,” Oscar replied, now on guard. Whenever he glanced at the stranger, he caught him staring. The stranger didn’t bother to feign disinterest. Oscar finally met his gaze and then a nagging feeling made his expression pinch in concentration. “Wait, aren’t you that guy from the store?”_

_“You remember me,” the stranger said with a beaming grin._

_“Yeah, I mean--” Oscar’s chest tightened. The stranger worked at an sporting goods store and had spent a long time helping Oscar find a gift for his boyfriend. He remembered because the stranger been so patient and understanding as Oscar waxed poetic about Jorge. Incredibly cringy, in retrospect._

_“Your boyfriend, did he like what you got him?” the stranger asked, interrupting his thoughts._

_“It was okay,” Oscar said, “but turns out his best friend got him front row tickets to Taylor Swift.” He frowned, trying not to tear up. “Guess a new jacket can’t compare to that.”_

_Tilting his head, the stranger asked, “He didn’t see the tickets in the pocket?”_

_Oscar chuckled, despite himself. “You remember that? Oh my God, so lame.”_

_“It was really sweet. I thought it was thoughtful,” he remarked._

_Oscar couldn’t help but burst out a bitter, harsh laugh. “Oh yeah, bus tickets to Boston in March are real romantic. God, I was so stupid!” His lips trembled as the couple’s getaway he had planned went up in smoke, upstaged by the latest flavor-of-the-week pop star, upstaged by Jorge’s bitch of a best friend. Tears formed as he thought about the matching winter jackets he had gotten in preparation for that trip, but he gritted his teeth in fury. Sure, Jorge wanted those tickets, but there was no way Oscar could have afforded them._

_"I’m getting out of here. He doesn’t miss me anyway." Oscar kicked off from the wall and stalked off, planning a trip to the nearest liquor store. “Never appreciated me, never cared about me. What-the-fuck-ever.”_

_“I can get you a refund on the jacket,” the stranger offered as he walked after him, matching Oscar’s step._

_With a snort Oscar glanced at the man following him. “Wow, you take customer service seriously. Should I send an email or phone someone to tell them how you went above and beyond? Maybe someone can get something good out of this train wreck.”_

_“If you’re happy, we’re happy,” Damien said in a voice sounded like he was delivering a canned pitch._

_“That’s_ why you’re following me,” Oscar said sarcastically. “Because I’m definitely not happy.” But he couldn’t help a crooked smile from appearing as a thought struck him. “Wait here,” Oscar directed, then dashed back into the bar. 

_In a minute he sprinted back out with jacket in tow, a spiteful grin on his face. Oscar was relieved to see that the stranger did wait for him. Out of breath he said, “It’s a little mussed but-- but--”_

_Oscar started laughing as wickedly as he could, but it rapidly devolved to trembling, ugly sobs. “Fuck!” he yelled at no one in particular. “Fuuuck!” Mortified, he kept rubbing the tears off his face. “That fucking fuck limp dick--!” He couldn’t care less about the passersby who watched Oscar make a scene._

_“Hey, let’s keep walking,” the stranger said kindly, a warm hand on Oscar’s back._

_Oscar rubbed his face into the jacket, but the rough nylon scratched his teary cheeks. “I swear I was okay before I went in.” With a clenched jaw and stuffy nose he said, “Why didn’t I see it coming? I should have seen it coming. Just--” Oscar shook his head, like he was trying to dislodge Jorge from his brain, “ugh! Ugh!”_

_After a short silence, Oscar changed the subject. Offering the damp jacket, he asked, “Still okay to return?” Taking a moment to stifle another sob, he continued, “There’s a few footprints on it.”_

_“How could I not?” the stranger said with a solemn shake of his head._

_“You’re right. You’d have to, because I have the best sob story: returning a gift meant for a worthless boyfriend, caught hooking up with the guy ‘not to worry about.’” His misery was wringing every good emotion from his guts. Oscar wasn’t sure why he kept trusting his boyfriends, all of which turned out to be lousy._

_“No problem,” the stranger said, “You just have to make sure I’m there when you make the return. You don’t need to tell me the story again though.”_

_“And who should I be asking for if I can’t find you?” Oscar asked, not sure how he felt about this tag along._

_“Damien,” he said. “And you’re Oscar, right?”_

_“Yeah,” Oscar said distantly. He wasn’t jumping for a rebound and still wanted to go home to drink his grief away, though he appreciated the warm company. “Anyway…” he began, trying to find a polite way to escape, eager to hide and lick his wounds._

_Damien interrupted him, “Oscar, I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry. Wanna join me at that diner?” He jerked his head up the block, where Oscar could see the tired neon sign advertising its breakfast at midnight special._

_The bottles of Milagro were calling him, but Oscar reasoned that drinking heavily would be easier with food in his belly. Trying to score a free meal, Oscar brought out a little charm as he said, “You know what makes excellent customer service?”_

_“What?” Damien asked with amusement, though Oscar was too shy to answer. He continued without batting an eyelid, “No, it's my treat, Oscar, because I like you."_

_Oscar paused, taken aback by Damien’s candor. Following him inside the diner, Oscar grew intrigued and, plus, Damien was as hot in the streetlights as he was in the shadows. He figured it was okay to be reckless every now and again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a lot longer than expected! Thank you so much for reading this revision and my first work on AO3. Expect a sequel next year around the same time.

**Author's Note:**

> Revising my first serious attempt at original slash fiction. I know its indulgent, but I felt the story deserved proper development, being the first.


End file.
